


It's Just Us

by 2ArrowsNTheBack



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barry Allen Needs a Hug, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oliver Queen Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, first fic i'm posting as i write, happens way after crisis but oliver came back when he saved everyone else, not beta read be gentle on me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24864616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2ArrowsNTheBack/pseuds/2ArrowsNTheBack
Summary: Crisis left its mark on all of them. For Iris, it meant asking her husband to give up being the Flash. For Barry, it meant staying in a haunted city, giving up the part of him that once made him needed. For Oliver, revived during the re-writing of the world, and Felicity, it meant moving to the middle of nowhere, a house with a green yard and picket fence.For years, Barry grew more and more comfortable in his civilian life, a life of patterns, routines, and monotony. What on Earth, or beyond, could disturb this?
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West, Barry Allen/Oliver Queen, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Iris

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is the first fic I'm posting as I'm writing. To be honest, it's just to hold me accountable so that I'll actually finish it! Anyways, this takes place wayyyy after crisis – but in this world, Oliver came back with the rewriting of the worlds. So Earth-38 and Earth-1 are still merged, but Oliver's still alive. Yay! Anyways, please be gentle with me – this isn't beta read, and the updates might be slow! Don't be afraid to leave comments with constructive criticism or heckling me for updates :) So anyways, enjoy!

As time went on, it seemed Central City was actually not the most interesting place to live.

Iris had become secure in her position as the head of the Central City Citizen. As time went on and the paper grew, she now had an entourage of employees, actual large companies offering her money for advertising, and a viewer base to rival Picture News. She wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened; years of hiring delinquents that society had cast out eventually led to a large and loyal employee network, now competent to the point where she didn’t have to go out and cover stories anymore. Did she miss the thrill of being on the front lines? She sure did. But seeing the work that those people did, people who had once been thought would amount to nothing, as editor-in-chief lit a maternal spark in her that she didn’t know she had. Well into her forties, and she was going soft in her old age.

Her other job, though? Her other life? That was a different story.

She used her fingers on the touchscreen to shove away the myriad of old articles she was looking at, closing her laptop to half mast as she heard the door creak open. She smiled when she saw who it was.

“Allegra! Hi.” Iris greeted one of her oldest workers and, if she was being honest, now one of her closest friends. “What can I do for you?”

Allegra smiled cheekily as she made her way over to Iris’s desk. They both loved that dump of an office in the building next to Ralph, but they were both happy to move into the new and large office with enough room to have a break room. Honest to god, there’s a vending machine in there.

“Hey, boss, what makes you think I need something? Maybe I just want to say hi to a friend.”

“You’ve got your ‘fresh scoop’ look.” Iris crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, looking Allegra dead in the eye. “Don’t try to fool me. Now spill.“

Allegra hesitated, for exactly one millisecond, before hastily sitting down in the chair across the desk. She leaned forward, eyes beaming like an overexcited puppy. “I think I’ve got a breakthrough in the sex trafficking case. I knew everyone working there couldn’t be an awful person, and I got one of the guards to break. I was thinking of getting everyone on the team involved. You in?”

It was cute that Allegra still considered her a part of the team, considering she hadn’t been on a headset since Crisis, over fifteen years ago. That didn’t mean she didn’t keep in contact with everybody there. She had weekly sparring sessions with Killer Frost and weekly coffee with Caitlin. Cisco was the only one who would properly cry with her to sad movies, and Ralph still stopped by her office to give her insider scoop when a big case came up. Joe was her dad, of course they still kept in contact, and he still held family dinners every Sunday with her, Wally, and Barry. Barry. Her husband. The man she went home to every night, crawled under the sheets with, curled up against, listening to the Speed Force humming under his skin, unused. The man she knew would be there from start to end of the night, as it grew easier with each year to ignore the fires and the police calls she knew he knew about, easier to leave them to one of the many other Central City heroes. Easier to watch as the Flash grew more and more forgotten, faded from people’s minds.

She wasn’t exactly sure how Barry managed to stay in Central City, with all the ghosts of his past self haunting him. Frankly, she wasn’t sure how she did either. Part of her wanted to take a page out of Felicity and Oliver’s book, start over in the middle of nowhere. She still managed to stay friends with everyone, but their superhero lives? She hadn’t been needed there long since she left that world with her husband, post-Crisis. She didn’t have the brains, the bron, or the insane superpowers to truly help the team, and they all knew it.

It was only a matter of time before they forgot what she once did there. She’s surprised Allegra had even thought to ask her to help.

“No thanks, I’m good,” Iris answered Allegra, gesturing to the piles of papers on her wooden desk. Even as they moved more and more digital, Iris still liked the feel of physical copies, paper in her hand. So sue her. “As you can see, I’m swamped here.“

Allegra stared at her for a moment, an intense look in her eyes. Somewhere between pity and... something. The years had served Allegra well, Iris decided, admiring the crows feet by her eyes and the freckles that Allegra had stopped covering up with concealer. If the sunlight hit her properly, she looked radiant.

“Yeah, no, of course,” Allegra said, getting up and smoothening out the wrinkles on her black pencil skirt. “Don’t let me disturb you. I’ll let you know how it goes!”

Iris laughed. “You always do. Be safe, alright?” Iris fixed her with a firm look.

“Always.” With that, Allegra left the office and Iris was once again left alone, memories on her laptop and busywork on her desk. Sometimes, she wondered if she was even needed at work, if they couldn’t just get one of the layout people to look over the final draft. Still, Iris opened her laptop and pulled out one of the first articles she published, the first one about the Streak. Sighing, she leaned back, kicked her legs up onto the desk, and pulled the laptop onto her lap. Work could be dealt with later.

***

Later, after she got home from work, she kicked off her heels and crashed on the couch, content to watch reruns of the Office on the television until Barry got home. When he did, she kissed him, barely tasting his lips, and they began to make dinner together. What was once a steady stream of laughter and banter had dwindled down to a thrilling conversation of _Pass the paprika_ and _Set the timer for twenty minutes_. As they ate, they exchanged small talk until eating in a peaceful quiet, the pleasant hum of the television serving as background noise. As Iris twirled her fork into her spaghetti, because Thursday night was always spaghetti night, she wondered when they had fallen into this routine, this quiet monotony, where days faded into weeks into months into years.

As she curled into him later, breathing in his familiar smell, feeling just a hint of softness on the sinewy muscles of his stomach, she set the alarm for six am. It was a vicious cycle, really. Wake. Work. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.


	2. Barry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Barry's life at CCPD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2's out kinda soon! I wanted to really establish this world before I didn't post so frequently. You can expect one a day for at least the first five! Plus, I was excited :)

Head of CSI department didn’t feel that much different that just a regular CSI. His office/laboratory/nerd haven was still exactly the same, except at least now Barry could say for certain that there’s no threat of ever having to share it again, changed the timeline or not. He also got the high profile cases, but then again, didn’t he always? It wasn’t like anyone there doubted his worth. Not anymore.

“Incoming!” Joe warned, poking his head into Barry’s office before making his merry way elsewhere. Barry sighed, put away his lunch, and braced for what happened next. Okay, maybe head of CSI department was a bit different.

“Mr. Allen? Are you in there?” Barry watched as Farah and Kyle made their way into his office. Farah made eye contact with him and her face lit up with excitement. “Oh, good! You’re here! Boy have we got news for you!”

Barry opened his mouth to speak, but Kyle beat him to it. “So remember how Farah got that recording of that weird ninja-star-throwing-guy, but his voice was disguised?”

“Except it wasn’t like the other bad guys,” Farah couldn’t help but cut in, “he had disguised his voice all squeaky. Which did not make him seem very scary, might I add. You wanna give off true villain vibes, go for the lower octaves, man.”

“Anyways,” Kyle continued, bumping Farah in the shoulder, “we didn’t really have decryption software for higher pitches, so I had code my own program. I mean, it’s 2037, you guys! Anyways, I finally finished it.”

“Here, take a look.“ Farah tapped a few things on her CCPD-issued tablet before holding it out for Barry to listen.

While the two assistant CSIs were young, and quite...loud, Barry found himself quite fond of the pair. Young, brilliant, and nerdy, they sort of reminded him of, well, himself, back in the good old days. He knew that so many people overlooked him when he was first starting out at CCPD, and he made a vow to never do that to them. They were brilliant, and worked best together, bouncing ideas back and forth like a professional game of ping-pong. Farah and Kyle came as a pair. There was no telling otherwise. They had met in college and been tight as thieves ever since. Barry allowed himself a soft smile, watching the pair interact, but his smile quickly faded as he listened to the recording they had brought him.

“One move, Kid Flash, and the lady dies.” Barry remembered the moment quite well, watching Wally on the news, standing inches away as the ninja-star-guy pressed a blade into the woman’s neck. Wally managed to save the woman. He remembered that.

What he didn’t remember was hearing the distinct voice crack in the middle of the sentence. Or the fact that his enemy had the voice of a teenage boy.

Barry just stared at the phone, glowing bright in his face, for a moment longer, before trying to regain his composure and turning to face the younger two.

“He’s a, um, he’s a kid,” Barry managed to stammer out.

“He’s also got a confirmed kill count of seven.” Farah furrowed her brow at him for a moment dropping it. “Anyways, now that we’ve got a voice, we can finally track him down. Put a face to the name.”

Something in Barry’s stomach twisted. “Um, yeah. Try starting with matching it to known convicts.”

“On it, boss!” Farah made her way out of the office with a little more pep in her step, but Kyle lingered behind. He looked like he was on the verge of saying something.

“Kyle, is everything alright?” Barry asked. He wasn’t just a boss to these kids. “You can talk to me.”

“It’s nothing, Mr. Allen.“ Kyle looked up from the ground so fast he should have gotten whiplash. Barry was silent, knowing that silence was the best way to get someone to open up, and as expected, Kyle hesitantly spoke. “Your dedication to justice is one of the things I admire most about you, you know. This isn’t just a job to you. You care.”

Barry was taken aback. “Wow, um, thanks. But I’m just doing my job.”

“See! That’s such a you thing to say. It’s like, you don’t even realize what a big deal that is.” Kyle paused for a moment, looking down at the floor again. Barry motioned to bench in the corner of his office and they sat down side by side. After a beat of silence, Kyle spoke. “It’s Farah.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no, not really. It’s just, well, we haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately. She thinks that just because we’ve seen shit and didn’t turn out as criminals or whatever, that those people are, like, inherently bad or something.” Kyle took a deep breath. “And I know that this is like the shittiest job to be in, but every time someone walks in through that door, I think, that could have been me. That could have been us. I know she became a CSI because she wants to put bad people to justice. And you’ve been my nerd hero since I was old enough to read case reports, and I know you’ve put so many criminals away. But are they really bad people?”

Kyle fell silent, and Barry took it upon himself to speak. “I didn’t become a CSI so that I could ‘bad people’ away.”

“No?”

“Well, maybe at first.” Barry sighed. The story at the tip of his tongue was a familiar one, one he could recite like a fact from a history textbook, but somewhere deep, deep down inside him, he felt a pang. “When I was eleven, I watched a man murder my mother. My father went to jail for it.”

“God, Mr. Allen–”

“I’m not looking for pity, Kyle. At first, I was mad. I was so mad that there was this man roaming freely while my dad was stuck in a jail cell. But time passed, and I eventually began to make my peace with it. I didn’t take this job because of the criminals.” A small smile spread across Barry’s face. “I didn’t want any other innocent person to be sitting in a jail cell. That’s the mindset I bring to this job. I think people are products of the environments that they’re in. Sometimes, good people do really dumb things, and as CSIs, it’s our duty to help put those good people behind bars. But we aren’t the type of people who take that lightly, and we never, ever, put someone behind bars without being one hundred percent certain that we’ve got the right guy.“

“Wow. That’s just, wow. I was not expecting that from someone with the amount of case reports you have.” Kyle was looking at Barry like he was something golden. He paused, before speaking. “I, um, I actually didn’t meet Farah at college. We met at the orphanage.”

Barry hoped that Kyle didn’t notice his sharp intake of air.

“I didn’t say that to be pitied, or anything.” Kyle fidgeted with his thumbs in his lap. “I just worry about her, you know?”

Barry nodded, knowingly. “I’ve got a wife. Sometimes, the people we care about just get a little off track. Just, give her reasons to see the goodness in people again. People want to believe, Kyle, they just need a little help sometimes.”

Kyle smiled. “Is that a quote, or have you been holding out on some Oscar Wilde talent on us?”

Barry returned his smile. He knew that Iris didn’t want kids, at least not now, not after the still fresh heartbreak of Nora, and had made peace with that long ago. But having these young kids, who looked up to him, made him feel fulfilled in a way that nothing else did. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Hey, you know Captain West’s always saying that thing you said earlier. That people are a a product of the environment they’re in.”

“Yeah, well, he was my foster dad.”

“No way.” Kyle’s jaw practically dropped. 

Barry chuckled. “Come on, there is science-ing that must be done. You can bug Joe for childhood photos later,” he said, giving Kyle a small pat on the back.

Kyle stood up and made his way toward the door, but he hesitated, turning around instead. “What are we gonna do about the ninja-star-guy?”

Barry grimaced. “Our job.”

***

When Kid Flash brings the ninja kid in two days later, he finally gives Kyle the autograph that he’s been wanting to get for months. It took Barry bartering two pints of rocky road ice cream, but Kyle still looks sick as he watches the criminal, no, the teenager, pass by him in handcuffs. Barry can’t help but notice that they have similar hair, dark brown, a short fade.


	3. Barry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You left your mark there, Barry. We’ve both done our job. We were the firsts. We started a generation of heroes who now protect our cities.”
> 
> “I know, it’s just…” Barry trailed off.
> 
> “You always thought you would be needed,” Oliver finished, and Barry stopped walking, looked up at him, because yes, that was it. That was exactly it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 out! Thanks for sticking with me! (P.S. I'm trying out that thing I've seen others do where they have a quote as the summary! It's pretty cool!)

Barry found himself with a complete aversion to the front door. In the middle of fucking nowhere Wisconsin, Barry phased through the pale blue walls of a house he knew like his own, coming to stand in the middle of a well furnished living room. He checked his watch. 10am on the dot. Right on time. Barry was perpetually late to virtually everything, from work to dinners to doctor’s visits, but he was always right on time, every Saturday, at 10am, barring some life threatening crisis. Lately, though, there wasn’t anything to pull either man out of their retirements.

As Barry stepped further into the living room, converse sinking into the plush carpeting he knew must be Felicity’s choice, he heard something. It almost sounded like…music?

He crept toward the back room of the house, where the sound seemed to be coming from. The click of his shoes on glossy wooden floors was slowly drowned out as he approached.Lo and behold. Oliver Queen, ex-vigilante, ex-Argus agent, probably knew at least fifty ways to torture someone, was playing the piano.

Barry watched Oliver’s face, brow furrowed in concentration. Oliver was gazing intently at the music in front of him, rather than at the keys. Barry leaned in the doorway, tearing his gaze away from Oliver and instead closing his eyes. He felt the notes wash over him, felt shivers running down his back.

It was kind of beautiful.

The melody was simple, but the high notes soared above the baseline. Every note, every pause, every breath felt like it was aching, like it was beginning for something, yearning to go forward. It was like being on the precipice of something amazing, so close to almost touch something wonderful, only to have it tugged further away. Barry wasn’t sure what brought on the sudden wave of emotion but he felt tear sting the lids of his unopened eyes.

Barry wasn’t sure how long he was standing there, suspended, before the last phrase came to a close, the rise and the fall, the chord hanging in the air. He still felt suspended, waiting for notes that would never come, hearing the echoes of vibrations in the air. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, afraid to break the magic.

“Hey Ollie.” Barry gave a small wave, a wiggling of fingers really, feeling exposed under his gaze. They’ve been friends for years and Oliver still has this way of looking at that made Barry feel like he was stripping away the layers, staring at his soul. Oliver had an odd, unreadable look on his face now, but Barry pushed that thought aside. “That was really good.”

Oliver shrugged. “I’ve got some free time, ever since Mia left, and it’s just been sitting in the back.”

Barry wasn’t sure how Oliver could be so nonchalant about something that left him breathless.

He made his way over to the bench that Oliver was sitting on, in front of the piano. Before he even asked, Oliver slid to the side and Barry took a seat next to him in a seamless motion. Perhaps those years of crime fighting together left them in sync with one another, in a groove they couldn’t find with anyone else.

Barry turned to face him. “Hi.”

“Hi, Barry.” Oliver looked at him with something akin to fond exasperation.

Barry was suddenly aware of how close their faces were. He turned away, instead focusing on the instrument in front of him. He ran his fingers over the keys, feeling them shift just lightly, not enough to make a sound, cold under his hand. “What song was that?” he asked.

Oliver gestured to the sheet music. “River Flows In You. Yiruma. It was beginner level, and something about it just seemed....”

“Like you were waiting for something that never happened. It sounded like longing."

“Yeah, something like that.” Oliver seemed to be fixated on a spot on the wall, his gaze distant. Perhaps it had been a tough night for him.

Barry bumped his shoulder against Oliver’s. “Hey, you ready for some brunch?”

Oliver turned to him, and Barry saw the beginnings of a smile on his face. “You’re right on time.”

***

As they started the two mile walk into town, Barry once again marveled at where he was. “It’s been over a decade, Ollie, and I still can’t believe that you’re here. In the middle of fucking Wisconsin. With a cute little house that’s even got a fucking white picket fence. You’re, like, the picture of domestic life right now.”

“Well, I’m still missing a dog, then,” Oliver joked.

“Oliver, you run a cafe,” Barry deadpanned. “That makes up for the entire lack of dog. Or cat. Or bird. Or whatever other animal you think will make you more of a small town boy.”

“Technically, I’m just manager,” Oliver said with a small smile.

“Way back when I first met you, I never took you as the type of person to do this. You know, have a normal nine-to-five. Take weekends off. Go for runs in the morning where no one’s chasing you.”

“You retired too, you know,” Oliver pointed out.

Barry fell silent. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at the ground, disappearing under his feet. At normal speed. More and more things were at normal speed. “I still dream about it sometimes. Missions, the rush, the fear, all of it. I thought…” Barry trailed off, silently. He paused. “I don’t know.“

Barry could feel the weight of Oliver’s gaze. They weren’t moving any slower, but Barry felt every step like he was walking through molasses.

“You left your mark there, Barry. We’ve both done our job. We were the firsts. We started a generation of heroes who now protect our cities.”

“I know, it’s just…” Barry trailed off.

“You always thought you would be needed,” Oliver finished, and Barry stopped walking, looked up at him, because _yes, that was it._ That was exactly it.

“I used to feel so damn guilty, every time I saw a fire on the news, or a robbery, or anything. A kitten stuck in a fucking tree. But that part of me started to fade once I saw Wally, or Ralph, or Allegra swoop in and save the day. Now, I just feel, I don’t know, empty.” Barry sighed. “Being the Flash – I helped people, Ollie. I was there.”

“It gave you a purpose,” Oliver said, knowingly, as they continued to walk, and Barry hummed in agreement. “You never said why you gave it up.”

Barry ducked his head. “You never asked,” he retorted, but he couldn’t meet Oliver’s eyes.

Barry was a shit liar. Oliver knew this. Barry _knew_ he knew this.

“Maybe I’m asking now,” Oliver said gently.

“Iris actually asked me to give it up,” Barry said, softly, and he hated how his voice cracked, he hated it. He took a shuddering breath, but when he spoke again, he sounded distant. “She couldn’t deal with it, not knowing if I was gonna come home every night. Crisis was the tipping point. The build-up of it all. Trying to come to terms with me dying for _months_. I don't blame her.” He paused. "Crisis was her Savitar."

Oliver was silent, and Barry finally looked up at him, staring into his blue eyes. Having the full attention of Oliver Queen was a rush.

“How are you okay with this, Ollie?” Barry’s voice broke as he gestured around to everything.

Without saying anything, he knew Oliver would know what he was talking about. The cute houses on their right. The forest on their left. The two mile walk into town. The low crime rates and the nine-to-five job and the being the perfect husband and just everything.

There was a pause, and Barry liked to imagine that Oliver was thinking carefully about his words, that he was about to be imparted with some trademark Arrow wisdom. It almost made him feel like he was a part of a team again, hearing a brave, awe-inspiring, hope-inducing speech before a battle against the odd, a fight where they knew they’d lost but they kept fighting anyways and somehow, against the odds, they won.

Instead, it was just him and Oliver and the autumn air. There was a leaf on the ground and Barry went out of his way to crush it.

“Each time I was putting on that mask, it was like a piece of Oliver Queen was fading away.”

“You once said that it wouldn’t be fulfilling if it was normal,” Barry said. He hated that he sounded like a child, whiny, betrayed, but Oliver was the one man he thought could understand this feeling.

“I’m content to just be me for once,“ Oliver said, and there was a hint of a smile tugging on his lips.

Barry couldn’t be mad at Oliver for finding happiness. Not with everything the older man had been through.

“Wasn’t the Arrow a part of you, too?” He tried, one last time, practically pleading.

“The Arrow just brought out the darkness in me, and in everyone around me,” Oliver said, and he met Barry’s eyes. “But I’m not you, Barry. I was the Arrow because of necessity, and then because it was familiar. Because it was home. But being the Flash, Barry, I watched you. It was everything to you. You got to help people in a way you couldn’t as CSI. The Flash brought out the goodness, and the light, in you, and in everyone around you.“

“Yeah, well, that’s no longer my lifestyle. Hasn’t been in over fifteen years. I’ve got to put my family first, Ollie.”

“Family doesn’t ask you to change, Barry.”

Barry's blood ran cold. What the _fuck_ was that supposed to mean?

“Barry, I think you're taking this wrong way.”

Barry could tell that Oliver regretted what he said. Oliver reached forward to grab Barry’s sleeve, but he stepped back. Oliver knew him too well – knew he’d want to run, knew he wasn’t happy living this goddamn _normal_ life, knew him too well to stand there and tell him that the love of his life shouldn’t ask him to change.

“You can save it.” Barry took another step back. “I really needed you, today. I needed some fucking normal. Or, whatever the hell you call this.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, Barry.”

“I come out here every weekend. I come out here and your life is so fucking perfect and I’m trying, Ollie, I’m trying.” He paused. For some reason, it was hard to catch his breath. He took a deep one, a little bit wobbly, and let it out. “I– my team– CCPD. We put a kid behind bars. Yeah, a kid.” He barked out a laugh. “Some fucking punk teen who got really good at throwing ninja stars. Whose mom overdosed herself when he was eight. Dad died of suicide three years later. Yeah, I read his file.“

“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet, and Barry knew Oliver meant them, making it that much harder. "I didn't know."

“I think I have to go.” Barry turned on his heel and started walking briskly towards the forest. Oliver could follow him, Barry knew that much, which is why as soon as he hit the trees, he sped off. Somewhere in the distance behind him, he thought he heard someone call his name, once, twice, three times before silence.


	4. Felicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s different.“ Oliver rolled his left wrist around a few times, testing the mobility, but Felicity had gotten good at wrapping his hands after so much practice. “I never liked being the Arrow. Not really. But Barry, he’s…he’s Barry.”
> 
> Felicity shrugged. “People sacrifice for those they love. Maybe the sacrifices you made and the ones he made are different, but they still come from a place of love.“
> 
> “You wouldn’t ask me to give up something that such a big part of–”
> 
> “Except I did, didn’t I?” Felicity remembered their brief stint at normalcy. “And you did, didn’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for sticking around! Love you all!

There’s something incredibly powerful about a woman in heels. Not that, you know, heels were something a woman needed to be powerful. Or that heels were inherently superior to other shoes. Felicity knew that a woman should be free to express herself any way she pleased, and heels actually had a pretty sexist origin–

She was getting ahead of herself.

What she meant to say was that she missed that. Heels. The foundry floor. Something about the way that sound, the _click, click, click_ of her shoes announced her presence before she even came into view made her feel powerful. Useful.

Felicity knew she couldn’t fight, like basically every other person to grace their presence down there. She didn’t have any cool powers, and she’d hardly count the self-defense lessons she’d taken as anything close to fighting skills. All she had was her brain and her computers and her voice behind a mic. But something about those heels…

She shook her head. She was getting lost in thought. She seemed to do that a lot these days. Somewhere between here and there – although she wasn’t really sure where either of those were – her word vomit had become less of a mess of words and more of a steady, rambling stream of dialogue inside her head.

She set the plate down on the counter with a small _clink_. The kitchen wasn’t as much of a mess as it normally was. When Oliver didn’t show to help her with dinner, as he did every other night – Felicity had read in _Cosmos_ magazine once that couples who cooked together were happier, it was her guilty pleasure, alright? – she didn’t feel like doing anything but throwing together some spaghetti and sauce. She didn’t even heat up the sauce, or anything. Just boil the noodles, dump them into a bowl, and then dump in some sauce. Her own plate was left untouched beside the one she had for Oliver.

Her sensible sneakers didn’t really make a noise as she walked through the house. She still insisted on getting dressed for work, even if she did work from home. There was an office for her, and everything. Still, no need to wear heels anymore, with nowhere to be, was there? Especially with Mia just starting college and William at his new job at Kord Industries – nothing to do, nowhere to go.

She had a single pair of red pumps in the closet. Sometimes, when she was home alone, she pulled them out and just walked around the house in them. It never felt right.

The door to the basement was left ajar, like an invitation. Felicity cautiously pushed the door open and descended down the stairs. Already, she could hear the ever so familiar _whoosh_ of arrows flying.

As she descended, she watched as Oliver tossed three tennis balls in the air, each of them bouncing, before quickly grabbing his bow and arrow, notching three arrows, and letting them fly. Each was a bullseye.

Well, Felicity thought, this was a healthier coping mechanism than other ones she’d caught him with.

She caught a glance at his knuckles. Bloodied and bruised. Well, there goes his healthy coping mechanisms.

“Oliver,” she said, softly. Then again, louder. “Oliver.”

He went to collect his arrow-struck tennis balls before calmly turning to her, like he knew she was there all along. “I’m busy, Felicity,” he said, pulling an arrow out and slamming it down on the metal table. Felicity flinched.

“Yeah, I can see that,” she snapped.

Oliver softened, and placed the next arrows down gently. “Is…is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that.“ Felicity approached him, taking his hands in her own. “You didn’t wrap your hands.”

“I didn’t think to.“

“You should let me clean this up.”

Oliver slipped his hands out of hers. “It’s fine,” he said, taking a step back.

“What good will an archer be will swollen hands?”

“It’s not like I’m really an archer anymore,” Oliver said, grabbing three new tennis balls from the large laundry bag of them. He repeated the process. Throw, notch, release. After all this time, Felicity still watched in awe as each arrow found it’s target. Not really an archer, her ass.

“I know something happened with Barry,” Felicity tried. Oliver didn’t look at her, instead going to grab the tennis balls. These were embedded in the wall around eye-level. “Oliver, _please_. Just talk to me.”

He paused, back to her, before turning. “I guess I should ice my hands,” he said, not making eye contact. If Felicity didn’t know him as well as she did, she might’ve missed the hint of sheepishness in his voice. “I…”

“Come here.” She beckoned to him to sit on the metal table and grabbed the medical kit, standing between his legs. “Show me.“

He laid his hands in front of her. Up close, the damage was even worse. The skin was stripped away all across the tops of his knuckles, and blood was smeared all the way to his wrists.

“Jesus,” Felicity muttered, fighting to keep a straight face as she dabbed at the worst of it with an antiseptic cloth. Oliver didn’t flinch, but she did catch a small intake of air. “You didn’t notice…”

He shrugged. “I was mad. Stopped when I saw the blood on the bag.”

Felicity glanced to the left and saw a few smears on the black punching bag. “Oh.”

Oliver shrugged again.

“You’re not gonna tell me what happened with Barry, are you?”

Oliver looked up at her, but this time Felicity didn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing her gaze on his hands. She wiped off the blood with a paper towel. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Felicity said with a sigh. “I knew who I was marrying. I just thought you might’ve been getting better at the whole emotions thing. Thought a little bit of me might’ve rubbed off, or something. Metaphorically speaking. Not that I don't enjoy rubbing. On you. Okay, this is starting to get weird so I'm going to stop.”

Oliver snorted. There was a pause, and then he spoke. “I might’ve said something dumb,” Oliver admitted. Felicity’s hands stalled. “To Barry, that is.”

“Oh?”

They locked eyes, and Felicity got lost in those clear blues. “I’m really grateful I married you,” Oliver said, and there was something so sincere, so loving about his tone that Felicity just hand to lean in for a soft kiss.

They parted, lingering there for a moment, a few inches between them. Oliver leaned in for a second kiss, but Felicity pulled away, smiling. “Not so fast, mister. I’ve still got to clean up the mess you made over here.” She lightly tapped his hands.

Oliver pouted. Okay, it wasn’t so much of a pout as a slightly-disgruntled look, but it was something, coming from him.

“Hey, I’m not the one who did this.” She applied some liquid bandage on. “Whatever you said to Barry, I’m sure he’ll forgive you. He’s that kind of person. Big heart.”

“Yeah. He’s got a real big heart,” Oliver said, absently. Felicity started wrapping his hands. “I just don’t understand how someone with that big a heart could give up the Flash. Just like that.”

“That was a long time ago. Besides, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know.” Oliver sighed. “He told me, today. It was Iris’s idea.”

“Oh.” Felicity finished with his left hand and started on his right. “You gave up being the Arrow.”

“That’s different.“ Oliver rolled his left wrist around a few times, testing the mobility, but Felicity had gotten good at wrapping his hands after so much practice. “I never liked being the Arrow. Not really. But Barry, he’s…he’s Barry.”

Felicity shrugged. “People sacrifice for those they love. Maybe the sacrifices you made and the ones he made are different, but they still come from a place of love.“

“You wouldn’t ask me to give up something that such a big part of–”

“Except I did, didn’t I?” Felicity remembered their brief stint at normalcy. “And you did, didn’t you?”

“That was different.“

“Was it?“ Felicity quirked an eyebrow and patted his hands, all wrapped up. She turned her back to find a sharpie.

“It didn’t end up working. We went back.”

“We weren’t happy. I realized you needed to want to get out. You needed to be done with that life. Otherwise,” she said, turning back to him with a sharpie in hand, “it wouldn’t work. And look at us now.”

Oliver smiled. “We have a good life.“

“Yes, we do.” Felicity took one of his hands in hers and started drawing on the wrap. “Maybe Barry was done with that part of him, with that part of his life. Who knows?”

“He’s not, he can’t be.”

“Did you ask him?”

“He said he dreamed about it.” Felicity watched as Oliver struggled for words. “He said he’s not needed.”

Felicity hummed, a small encouragement.

“I just–” Oliver cut himself off. Felicity paused, just waiting to see what he’d say. “How could you ask me to leave?”

There wasn’t any animosity in the question. He was genuinely curious. Felicity smiled, took his other hand and started to draw. “Well, I didn’t know how much longer I could take it, watching you destroy yourself like that. It was you, or the lifestyle. And I loved you enough to not want to lose you.” She paused, trying to carefully choose her words. If there was ever a time for word vomit, it wasn’t now. “In hindsight, it was kind of selfish. But it felt right in the moment.”

“Thank you,“ Oliver said, softly.

Felicity finished drawing and patted both of his hands. She had decorated each of the wraps with little hearts. “I’ll always be here to wrap your hands,” she said with a smile. “And now it’s all pretty, so don’t go messing up my work.”

Oliver laughed. It was still a bit strained, but Felicity was happy to hear the sound. She started packing up the medical kit and sticking it back on the shelf. Oliver was still sitting on the metal table. Felicity had never really understood his friendship with Barry, but Oliver was allowed to have his own friends, his own life. Besides, it made him happy, and she just wanted him to be happy.

She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her, startled out of whatever thoughts he was thinking. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go upstairs. Dinner’s getting cold."

Oliver’s eyes went wide for a moment, before he hung his head. “You made….”

“It’s fine.” Felicity wrapped her arm around his waist as he stood. “Just don’t expect it too often. I’m not your housewife.”

“Understood,” Oliver said, with a smile. Together, they climbed the stairs, out of the darkness, back into their brightly lit house.


	5. Felicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, well, you’ve been to hell and back. No wonder you’ve been traumatized.“ She poked his forehead. “Betcha there’s a lot of PTSD and other stuff in there.”
> 
> “You were there with me. Every step of the way. In hell,“ he clarified.

Something was off. Something was off enough to pull her from the comforts of a deep sleep. She was still teetering there, on the edge of falling back into the darkness and being alert enough to know what the _hell_ was going on, because something felt very, very off and she didn’t know why.

She opened her eyes. Her own met a pair in the darkness, and she screamed.

Someone was there. She sat up. Hands in front. She pushed a body to the side. Get up. Protect the face. Always protect the face. Unless they have a sword. She’d probably die if they had a sword.

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t see anyone. She backed up. The wall. Her back was against the wall. Where was Oliver where the fuck was the fucking Arrow when you needed him –

The lights flickered on to reveal a very confused Oliver. Felicity swiveled her head around once, twice, but there was no one there. Someone was breathing heavily. It was her.

“Felicity?” Oliver asked. She met eyes with him and moments later he was there, in front of her, pulling her in his arms. She collapsed there, every muscle in her body going limp. “It’s just me. It’s alright.”

“I thought…” Felicity pulled back. “I thought there was someone here. There was someone watching me sleep.”

Oliver gave her a sheepish smile. “That was just me. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, now I feel dumb, don’t I?“ She laughed, a little, but it died down and there was just silence. “I’m sorry.“

“Don’t be,” Oliver said. “You were there for every nightmare of mine.”

Felicity collapsed on the bed, Oliver taking a seat next to her. He kept a comforting hand on her back, but nothing more. For all that he sucked at talking, he seemed to have this innate skill at determining how much contact someone needed at any given time. “Yeah, well, you’ve been to hell and back. No wonder you’ve been traumatized.“ She poked his forehead. “Betcha there’s a lot of PTSD and other stuff in there.”

“You were there with me. Every step of the way. In hell,“ he clarified.

“That’s different.“

“Is it?”

Felicity didn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean her head on Oliver’s shoulders. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

They just sat there, in silence for a little while. Felicity chanced a glance at the clock and saw it was just after four in the morning.

“Jesus, it’s early,” she muttered. “We should probably get some rest. You’ve got work in the morning.”

“I can call out. Besides, I wasn’t sleeping much.”

Felicity hummed.“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“I was thinking.”

She pulled back and looked at him. “You want to tell me what?” ****

“Not really,“ he said. There was a pause of silence before he spoke again. “I love you.”

“I know,” Felicity said. Then, because it didn’t seem like enough, “I love you too.“ She paused, before asking the question she knew she might live to regret. “Is it the thing with Barry? That’s keeping you up?”

“Felicity….” He tensed around her, but didn’t seem mad.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about. And you don’t have to. Talk about it. I mean, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Not that, like, I have control over your actions, or anything. I’m your wife, not your prison guard.” She laughed a little, but it died when she saw that he wasn’t. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t funny. But look, isn’t it nice to have normal problems? Problems like, I was mean to my friend rather than problems like, I have to save this city from a cult-leader magic man.”

She watched as Oliver flinched at the word “friend,” and she felt a pang of sorrow. Still, she knew there was no way he did anything that could really jeopardize his friendship with Barry. Those two were _tight_. It was almost freaky.

“Okay, maybe that was a little insensitive. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. Besides, you’re allowed to have big feelings about non-life-threatening problems.“ She jostled his shoulder. “Congrats, that’s being human. That’s what feelings are all about.”

“Hmm.”

His face was doing this funny thing, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. “Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“I know you want to say something.” She smiled. “Just say it.“

“I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, and look where that got me with Barry.”

Felicity sighed. “Barry’s different. I’m your _wife_. You can tell me things. That’s what the whole ‘through sickness and health’ spiel was about.”

“I just…” Oliver trailed off. Even in his old age, he seemed to be one of those people who thought carefully about each word he said. “I love you.”

“Okay.”

“And I think you’ve been through a lot.“

“Okay.”

“I think you should see a therapist.”

The blue comforter was suddenly very interesting to Felicity. “Um, what?”

“I think you should see a therapist.”

“No, I heard that, I just…“ She paused. “Why now?”

“Mia’s out of the house. You’ve certainly got the time for it.”

“Would you be seeing one?” Felicity tried not to make the question sound too judgmental, but she knew how it came out.

Oliver sighed. “You were normal, before all this happened. Before _I_ happened. You have a chance of getting that back. But me? I don’t think I ever was normal.”

“But before the boat –”

“I was just a sad, party boy. It was a fun life, sure, but it was empty. I was empty.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have jumped into fighting stance if I thought I was being watched before I met you.“ She smiled, then sighed. “I don’t blame you. I’d do it all over again. All of it. Kidnappings and stress and William and Mia and everything.”

“I know.” Oliver kissed the top of her head. “Just think about it. You want to go back to bed?”

Felicity shook her head. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

Oliver grinned, and she knew that grin anywhere. It was his ‘I have an idea’ grin. Usually, it was an awful idea, like the Green Arrow onesie he bought Mia, or using brownie mix for pancakes, or the time Felicity held an apple _inside her mouth_ and he shot it with an arrow without it going all the way though – it worked, but she didn’t sleep for a week.

“What? Spit it out.”

“Let’s go for a run,“ Oliver said, with a devilish glint in his eye, and Felicity laughed, oh did she laugh. Until she saw his face. He was serious.

“This is going to suck,” she muttered, but she was already getting up to search for some yoga pants.

***

Felicity collapsed, gasping against the counter. Her knees gave out and she was falling but Oliver caught her, he always caught her, him and his stupid non-sweaty face.

“Never, again,” she managed, through wheezing breaths. Oliver just smiled, and kissed her sweaty face.

***

Barry made his way back to the apartment. He hadn’t been home since his fight with Oliver, earlier that day. Could he even say that? He checked his phone. 1:03 am. So yesterday. Their fight yesterday.

Part of him knew it was selfish, and a little irresponsible, to not go home, but a stronger part of him sent a text to Iris and hoped she’d believe he was spending the night over there.

Instead of going home, he ended up running around Wisconsin for a little bit. Ended up at this giant mountain. Ended up running up said mountain a good distance, until he found a nice little ledge where it was cold but not freezing and he couldn’t look down without getting a little dizzy.

And he just sat there. Watched the sun set. Didn’t really do much thinking. Just sitting.

He was just about to phase through his door when something caught his eye. Bending over, he picked it up. It was a pale blue envelope, with his name printed in type-writer style font right in the middle of it.

The envelope wasn’t even sealed, just tucked closed, and Barry opened it. Inside was a small notecard, no larger than a palm, that read,

_I’ve finally figured it out. Your big secret, Flash._

Barry tucked the envelope in his pocket and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me go! Plot is actually happening, you guys! Anyways, kudos and comment if you're into that sort of stuff. See you next update! :)


	6. Barry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Too much thinking can be dangerous,” Alex said. “Sometimes, you have to follow your heart.“
> 
> “That sounds like a post card,“ Barry said, and they were laughing, just laughing.

Some part of him was nervous. Barry wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because it had been a while since he had taken a trip to National City, or maybe it was the fact that Kara had some sort of keen ability to read him – and no, it was her Martian friend that was the mind reader. The note was burning a hole in his back pocket but he pushed that out of his mind and knocked on the door.

He heard a voice, and then footsteps, and was thoroughly surprised when the face that greeted him was not Kara’s. “Alex?” he asked.

“Barry! It’s, um, it’s good to see you!” Alex looked at the grocery store bags in his hands – one filled with ice cream and the other with pot stickers – and stepped aside. “Why don’t you come on in?“

“Yeah, sure,” he said, stepping into the apartment. The interior of it looked mostly the same since the last time he had visited. God, that must have been a year ago? He noticed a new rug under his feet. “Is Kara home?”

Alex smiled apologetically. “No, I’m sorry. She’s actually gone out of town for a little while for a conference. Is there something I or the DEO can help you with?"

“No, no, nothing like that. Purely social call.” Barry was only a few feet into the door, but it was becoming more painfully obvious with each passing moment that he was intruding on…something. He started to back up. “You know what? Maybe I should get going.”

“No, wait.” Alex grabbed his wrist. “Are those pot stickers in that bag?”

“Um, yes?”

She smiled. “I could really go for some Chinese right about now.”

***

“Barry, I gotta ask you,” Alex said, mid-chew, “what are you doing showing up here this late?”

They were both sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch, little boxes of food spread out between them. As she spoke, Alex waved her chop sticks in the air.

“Not that I don’t mind the company,” she quickly amended. “Kelly took the kids, Elena and Charlie, back to her parents for a bit, but I had to stay for work. Kara let me crash here while she’s gone. House just feels a little lonely without her, you know?”

Barry hummed, and ate another bite of noodles. “Yeah, no, I get that. Iris tends not to travel much, but she used to. Used to do reporting all over, in fact.” He paused, shook his head. “Sorry, what was the question?“

“I just figured there was some reason you showed up here at eleven at night.”

“That’s late.“

“Yeah, no kidding.” Alex had this no nonsense way about her, but she was also gentle. In another universe out there, Barry thought they could’ve been really good friends.

“Right, yeah. I guess I just… I don’t know. Needed to clear my head, a distraction or something.“

“And you came _here_?” Alex almost choked on a pot sticker. “I love my sister, but she is all about talking about your feelings. I think living alone’s made her soft.”

Barry cringed. “How’s she been? Since, you know, the divorce?”

“I think she’s happier alone.” Alex shrugged. “She’s had really bad taste in men.“

“I should’ve been here more,” Barry muttered, shaking his head. If anything, he felt more in Kara’s absence than her presence how much he’d been neglecting some of his friends. He started to think about Cisco, Caitlin, Ralph, everyone else down at Star Labs. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Alex placed a gentle hand on Barry’s knee. “You have nothing to worry about.“

They went back to eating in peace, a quiet contentment. It was peaceful, in a weird way. Barry leaned his head back against the couch and sighed, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened – the fight with Oliver, the note. He couldn’t think about the note.

Iris said that he had this habit of getting too into his thoughts. Said that one time, she’d caught him just sitting on the couch, staring at the wall for four hours. He didn’t really know what to do with that information.

“Alex?” He still had his head tilted back against the couch, but he could feel her eyes on him.

“Hmm?”

“You…” He paused. “You’re the Director of the DEO.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him a little quizzically. Barry sat up.

“And you’re a mother. And a wife. And you’re all of these thing.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, Kelly was okay with all that?“

“Oh.” It seemed like she wasn’t expecting the question. She also sat up, put her chopsticks in a container and set them both aside on a coffee table. “Well, it wasn’t always like that. I mean, Kelly wasn’t totally on board with the danger. Not at first, anyways.”

Barry furrowed his brow. From what he had seen of the couple, they seemed to be entirely in sync, always on the same page.

“I mean, she was terrified. And rightly so. I’ve found myself spending more than enough time getting patched up over the years.“ She smiled, almost wistfully. “But I couldn’t give up something that was so deeply a part of my identity, no matter how much I loved her. So she learned to live with it.”

“And you’re fine with that? Putting her through all that stress?” The question came out harsher than Barry had intended it to, but Alex didn’t seem put off.

“Well, she handled Afghanistan alright, so she can handle this too,” Alex said. “Besides, she chose to be with me. She chose to be a part of my life, knowing how dangerous it was. It was her call to make.”

“Oh.” Barry just sat there for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I have a feeling you didn’t run all the way over here to say hi to an old friend,” Alex said. “Let me guess, Iris is the reason you retired?”

“My friends say I have a bad poker face.“

“No.” Alex grabbed her food again and started eating. “You just came in with the desperate look of a man seeking advice. Which I’m fine to give, although usually J’onn proves more wise in situations like this.“

“You Martian friend?”

“We don’t call him that, but yes.” Alex paused her eating for a moment and looked at Barry. “Did I ever tell you about my first fiancee, Maggie?”

“I didn’t know you had been engaged before,” Barry said, furrowing his brow.

“I wanted to be a mother so bad, and she didn’t want kids.” Alex shrugged. “I loved her. God, did I love her. But I loved myself enough. And I knew I could never be truly happy if I gave up on that dream. And look at me now.”

“You do seem happy,” Barry commented. And it was true. There were laugh lines on her face. Her smile seemed to come easy, and gentle, and so did her laugh, and there was this _glow_ about her. “You found your family.”

“I did.“ She smiled, looking almost wistful, before turning back to Barry. “Can I just ask, why now? It’s been years since you retired.“

It was Barry’s turn to shrug. “I heard some choice words from a friend, today. Not sure if they’re right, but… I don’t know. Got me thinking.”

“Too much thinking can be dangerous,” Alex said. “Sometimes, you have to follow your heart.“

“That sounds like a post card,“ Barry said, and they were laughing, just laughing.

The rest of the night passed pretty smoothly – they finished eating, played some cards. The entire time, he couldn’t stop thinking about the note. He wanted to tell someone, anyone. The person who sent it knew where he lived, who he was. If that was true, then everyone he knew and loved was now in danger. Hell, Iris was in that apartment all alone. God – _Iris_.

“I really should be going,“ Barry said, standing up abruptly. “It’s starting to get late, and Iris is back at the apartment….”

“No, no, I get it,“ Alex assured him. “Thank you. For staying. It was nice to have some company.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Barry gave her a smile. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“Well, I guess it’s a Mom Skill.“ Alex walked him to the door. Just as he was about to leave, she held out her hand. “I don’t think I have your number. Here, give me your phone.”

Barry dug out his phone and gave it to her. She punched in her number and handed it back.

“Don’t be afraid to use that.“ She pointed a finger at him. “I’m serious. Anytime.“

“Don’t worry, I will,“ Barry assured her. And then he was off. Back to home. Back to Iris.

***

When he got in, she was already in their bed, sleeping. Barry quietly, careful not to wake her, went into the back of their linen closet, where he pulled out a box. He took the box into the bathroom and locked the door, for safe measure. Sitting on the floor, he opened the box, pulled out a blank folder and a sharpie.

09-12-2037. He marked the date on the front of the folder, and took the note out of his back pocket, slipping in in. Then, he filed the folder into the box. Lines of folders stood up straight, each with a different date on it. The earliest dated back to January, 2035.

He used his speed to put the box back to normal before changing into his pajamas and slipping into bed. Iris stirred, and turned around to face him.

“Barry? What are you doing here?” She squinted at him in the dark, her voice thick with sleep. “I thought, you said you were staying at Oliver’s –”

Barry cut her off by placing a gentle kiss on her lips. “I missed you,” he said, simply, before turning on his side and waiting for sleep to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back with another update! That's right, your highly inconsistent writer-friend over here! Trying for once a week? Anyways, kudos and comment if you're into that sort of thing, and see you next update! :)


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